


be mine for always

by allmywill



Series: be mine for always [1]
Category: Duran Duran
Genre: Anal Sex, Banter, Christmas Lights, Christmas Music, Christmas Party, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Gift Giving, Love, Loving Marriage, M/M, Married Life, Married Sex, Old Friends, Reminiscing, Riding, Rough Body Play, Slow Dancing, Tender Sex, Tenderness, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:27:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21603730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allmywill/pseuds/allmywill
Summary: The Taylors host a dysfunctional Christmas party.
Relationships: John Taylor/Roger Taylor (Duran Duran), Simon Le Bon/Nick Rhodes
Series: be mine for always [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1597213
Comments: 50
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pink_and_Velvet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pink_and_Velvet/gifts).



> happy holidays! title from _I’d Like You for Christmas_ by Julie London. great Christmas song by the way, go listen to it.
> 
> this is a mini fic set near the release of Paper Gods. i'd like to thank @Pink_and_Velvet for the influence and inspiration for this! go read her fics if you haven't already, cause Tash really deserves all the love in the world.

_December 2015_

“Where are you going?” Roger laughs, almost dropping his end of the tree. “I made a space over _here_.”

John changes direction to where Roger’s going. He can hardly see him, the huge tree in the way of his vision. “Okay, _okay._ It’s not like I have any idea where I’m walking.”

When they make it to the corner of their living room, Roger sets his end of the tree down into the stand. John holds it up as he secures it, thankful that the hardest part is finally done and over with. Or so he thinks.

Roger stands back up and his black jumper is covered in pine needles. John smiles at the sight, reaching out and brushing them off him. His hands slow after they’re all gone, making a bit of a show out of the action.

“Just wanted a reason to feel me up, huh?” Roger teases.

“No shame in feeling up my husband, is there?” John quips. He’s always been a flirt, always will be. The rest of the guys tell him all the time.

Roger closes the distance between them, giving him a chaste peck on the lips. “None at all.” He smiles, wide and bright. “I think you just _really_ like reminding everyone we’re married, including yourself.”

“Oh, I don’t need a reminder,” John smirks, wrapping his arms around Roger’s middle. “But it certainly doesn’t hurt, now does it?”

He lays his head on his chest in return, melting into the comfortable, familiar embrace. It doesn’t take much, all John has to do is look at him with those soft eyes and he’s a goner. That’s how he knows he’s the one. Each and every day he wakes and sees his face, he knows.

“As much as I’d love to do this all day long, we can’t. Simon and Nick will be here soon.” Roger squeezes him tight before he pulls away.

John groans at the loss. “I know, I know. And knowing Nick, he’ll probably nag him into being _at least_ a half hour early.”

“For sure.”

They share a laugh for a moment. John then goes to retrieve the box of string lights, along with the rest of their Christmas decor for the house. As Roger’s digging through the box to find their ornaments for the tree, he comes across something that makes him grin from ear to ear.

A tiny glass picture frame ornament, no bigger than the size of his palm, encasing an old photo of the two of them in it. In the photo, Roger’s smoldering glance is directed at the camera, with John behind him throwing up two peace signs and smirking. He holds it in his hand and the memories come flooding back like a strong ocean tide.

He remembers the fans, the press, the craziness, the parties, the long days and longer nights filled with noise and music. It was a great time, and though he sometimes regrets leaving when he did, he wouldn't trade his past for anything in the world. Where would he be without those days?

“Babe, look,” Roger says, causing John to turn around. He holds the photo up for him to see. “We were so young.”

John takes the photo and looks closer, examining their youthful faces from so many years prior. “What I’d give to go back and slap some sense into that bugger,” he says, looking at himself.

Roger laughs. “Are you talking about you or me?”

“Me, but I think you could have used it, too.” John hands him back the picture.

“Well thanks.”

“To be fair, we were both complete idiots. Complete pining idiots.” John takes a string of lights and starts untangling them from the rest. “We were so in love with each other and it took both of us coming back to the band to realize it.”

The memory brings warmth to Roger's chest. _Astronaut_ had started it all. The album still holds a special place in both their hearts; it sparked the flame between them again, the flame that had been long overdue to burn bright. He thinks back to the earlier days, as far back as _Rio,_ and recalls the quiet yearning for his bandmate while sitting on the beach. He thinks of the glances, the heartfelt conversations, the secret touches when no one else was looking, and the eventual goodbye when he left that hurt more than he lead the others onto.

Things weren't perfect. Nothing seemed to work out in their favor then, until well over a decade ago, when all five of them reunited. It felt so surreal, so good to be together again like old times. The energy was insanely charged, all those feelings stirring within them. It only made sense that they'd start again, try again, be _John and Roger_ again. So they did.

“It worked out in the end, didn't it?” Roger has always been the positive force within the band, in their relationship, too. Optimism hasn't always been easy, but he's always been willing to try. For John, especially.

John plugs in the lights, the room now cast in a soft yellow glow. “It did,” he says, genuine happiness reaching his eyes. “I wouldn't change a thing.”

“I wouldn't either,” he replies, honest. Roger stands up and grabs the other end of the lights. He stretches and starts from the top of the tree, wrapping them around, but it's harder than he thought. He's not _that_ short, or at least he doesn't think he is.

John chuckles, watching him struggle for a second before swooping in and saving him from his own frustration. He takes the lights from his fingers gently and helps him get started. “You and your bloody pride. You can ask for help, you know.”

“I'm still mad that you've got inches on me.”

“Now you _know—_ ”

“Johnny, that is _not_ what I meant!” Roger laughs, then pauses and winks.

John's laughing so hard he thinks he might cry. He's hit with the realization of how perfect they are together, just how much they belong together. It feels like flying, floating in space. He's never been so happy, not even at the height of their fame when everyone knew his name.

Amidst all their fooling around, Roger starts circling around the tree with the string of lights, but doesn't realize he's tying John up in the process. It's definitely something they've done before, though never by accident and not in the living room before they're expecting guests.

“Rog, what the fuck,” John's still laughing. “Untangle me now before Charlie bursts through the front door and gets the wrong idea!”

Roger realizes what he's done and nearly dies at the sight of him. “Maybe this wouldn't have happened if you weren't so distracting,” he teases.

“I don't blame you.” John twists and Roger can't believe the tree hasn't come down on him yet.

“Stop moving so I can get you out of this!” Roger exclaims, his face aching from all the smiling he's been doing. He starts to unwind the lights, freeing him in a few seconds. “I cannot believe I tied my husband to the Christmas tree by accident.”

“You can tie me up on purpose later, if you want.”

Roger slaps his shoulder playfully. “Help me finish this tree before I lose my damn mind.”

John is beaming; he loves getting him riled up. “Your wish is my command, babe.”

The rest of the decorating goes without incident, for the most part. Save for John nearly lighting the curtains on fire, Roger thinks it went pretty well. He makes a mental note to not let his husband light any more candles. He’s much too clumsy to be trusted with fire.

Early evening has arrived, the sun setting and leaving their home in quiet darkness. But the tree glows proudly in the corner of the room, and the candle flames flicker on the coffee table, leaving the sweet scent of cranberry behind. The turntable is spinning a crisp Frank Sinatra record in stereo, one of his many Christmas albums.

Roger’s pulling a batch of sugar cookies out of the oven, trying not to burn himself like he’s done before, when the doorbell rings. He knows exactly who’s on the other side of that door. His two bandmates may as well just waltz right in.

“Could you let them in, Johnny?” he calls from the kitchen. 

John comes down the hallway, freshly showered and dressed. He’s looking forward to tonight, simply hanging out in his own home with his favorite people in the world.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here’s another chapter! let me know what you think. more to come!!

The door swings open to reveal a very bundled up version of Simon and Nick. Not bundled up together, but hidden in their own coats and scarves to help block out the brisk weather. They’re at that point in their relationship where John wouldn’t be surprised if they tried to share one coat. It’s often difficult to pry them from one another; they’re always together, always in each other’s personal space. Being married for over twenty years will do that.

Nick goes in for a hug, embracing his long time friend and bandmate. “How are you, Nigel?” he asks, voice sweet.

John squeezes him back, feeling him smiling against his shoulder. “Great, how about you two?”

“Fantastic, really.” He lets John go after a moment and takes the small package in shiny red wrapping paper from Simon’s hands.

Simon comes in the door and takes the bassist in his arms. John has always loved his hugs; he’s soft in all the right places and quite warm. Nick is certainly a lucky guy. Simon tightens their embrace before letting go, a trademark of his. “You look good, Johnny.”

“Sleep does a man good,” John says with a wide smile. He feels good, too. He hurries to shut the door behind them before Roger gets annoyed that he’s letting all the heat out.

Simon holds out the package to him. “Now be a good little boy and don’t open this until Christmas,” he says with a smirk. Typical Simon.

“Well, looks like we’re all being bad boys since we’re opening gifts tonight.” John takes the package, his fingers brushing a silver bow adorning a corner of the box. “You’re a real pain in the ass, Charlie.”

“Now you sound like Nick.” Simon looks to his husband with blatant fondness.

Nick lightly slaps his arm, eyeing him with his made-up eyes. “You’re _more_ than a pain in my ass.”

John chuckles at their banter. “Alright, Rog is in the kitchen. Let’s not keep him waiting, yeah?”

“Since when did you get the perfect househusband?” Simon calls after him.

Nick bursts into a fit of laughter as John turns, flipping him off as he makes his way to the kitchen. He and Simon take their time shrugging out of their coats and hang them by the door, along with their scarves and gloves. The house smells amazing and the warmth is welcoming. They always feel at home at John and Roger’s place; it’s just as familiar to them as their own. It’s like a second home.

They follow after John, entering the kitchen that’s dreamily lit by strings of lights and garland above the cabinets. Roger’s finishing putting the freshly baked cookies on a platter for everyone. He turns and sees Simon and Nick, smiling when he’s aware of their presence.

Simon walks towards him and envelopes the drummer in his open arms. “Missed you, Rog.”

“Oh come on, it hasn’t been that long.” Roger returns the embrace, his arms wrapped around Simon’s middle.

Roger pulls away and goes to Nick, also hugging him in greeting. “You’ve got your hands full, don’t you?” he laughs softly in Nick’s ear.

“Don’t I always?”

Roger can tell how happy he is when he pulls away; he’s glowing, and it’s not just from the lights above. It’s nice to see him looking so relaxed and so himself.

They’ve all had a wonderful year, one of the best they’ve ever had.

John has started getting hot cocoa made for all of them, pouring the powder into the machine they bought last year. He feels Roger eyeing him, and when he looks up, he’s right there.

“It would be easier if you put the milk in first, dear.” Roger goes over to the fridge and grabs it for him.

John rolls his eyes as he takes it from him. “I got it, don’t you worry your pretty little head.”

Roger slaps his ass as he walks by him, earning a giggle from Simon and Nick. “He’s so damn lucky he’s cute,” he remarks to them.

Trying his best to look offended, John whips around and nearly pours milk all over the kitchen counter, not his first near catastrophe of the night and probably not his last either. “In front of the guests?” he asks, his serious face immediately breaking into a contagious smile.

“Not like they haven’t seen us doing much worse before.” Roger unpackages a few candy canes from a fresh box. “I hid these from you, bet you had no idea they were here.” He holds one up to show him.

John, finally done filling the hot cocoa mixer, plugs it in. Luckily, he remembered the lid this time. “Probably a good idea on your part,” he replies. “But there’s something else I’d rather suck on.”

Simon almost chokes on the sugar cookie in his mouth. He and Nick have since seated themselves side by side at the breakfast bar in front of the food. “What kind of Christmas party is this?” he chuckles as he’s trying hard not to die. “These are amazing, by the way.”

Roger’s face is beat red from both laughter and a bit of embarrassment. “Thanks, made them myself. John helped a little.”

“Here, Nick, try it,” Simon breaks a piece off his, red and green sprinkles falling into his lap in the process. He holds it to Nick’s lips, and he smiles before taking it into his mouth.

“Look at them, Rog. Adorable.” John’s wiping his hands on a towel, watching his bandmates.

Nick leans over and moans in Simon’s ear. Simon giggles and rests a hand on his knee, getting slightly turned on by the sound.

“They’re great,” Nick says, satisfied with himself for getting a reaction out of Simon.

Roger smiles, feeding off of their energy. “I’ll go grab your present now. Don’t let John do anything stupid.”

“That’s been my job for most of my life,” Nick remarks, witty.

He knows they’ll like what he got for them, or more accurately, what he had made for them. Since Andy left for the second time, and John and Roger married, they’ve really cut down on the gifts for one another. Their extravagant gifts to each other in the early eighties were great at the time, but as they’ve aged, they’ve discovered all they truly want from each other is the band to continue, for the music to never stop. They vowed years back to only give small, thoughtful gifts from couple to couple during Christmas.

He pulls the flat wrapped package from the top shelf of his closet. The paper is gold and shiny and he has tied a sheer green ribbon around the corners. They’ll both be able to guess what it is right away, but when they actually do open it, he’s sure they’ll be surprised. He brings it out and sets it underneath the tree, along with Nick and Simon’s gift and his and John’s gifts to each other.

By the time he makes it back to the kitchen, John is making his way into the living room, following after Nick and Simon, who have mugs of steaming hot cocoa in their hands. They all sit and get cozy on the couch while Roger pours his own mug, smiling at the sound of their voices from the other room.

His home feels even more like home when his band is there.

The Sinatra record has long since ended, and instead, John’s pulling up Youtube on the TV. Simon and Nick are side by side, thighs touching. John is next to Nick, a small gap between the two of them. Roger plops down next to his husband, careful not to spill hot cocoa all over the couch.

“Should I be afraid of what you’ll make us watch?” Roger asks after a few moments.

John smirks. “Um... maybe,” he replies. He starts typing _Duran Duran._ “I figured we could all reminisce.”

Nick groans, crossing his legs and leaning closer to Simon. “You know how I feel about that.”

“It’ll be fun, I promise.” He searches _Duran Duran interview 1983_ and clicks the first video that comes up. 

It’s a grainy taped video of Nick and Simon, uploaded a few years back. As soon as Nick sees his younger self, he subtly hides by taking a sip of his hot cocoa. It’s not anywhere near as embarrassing as he thought it would be, though he still finds himself feeling weird about it.

A minute in, he looks over to John. “Did I really talk like that?”

John laughs, at his question rather than at the barely twenty-one year old Nick on the TV screen. “You talked fine. Hell, you sounded way smarter than the rest of us. Still do.”

“I’m just thinking about how I was so in love with him there and too stupid to realize it,” Simon chimes in, watching himself. He then looks to Nick, the same amount of adoration in his eyes, even after so many years.

Nick feels his gaze, warmth spreading throughout his body; it’s something beautiful that blooms within him over and over again. “Oh, stop it, Charlie,” he says, blushing, though the low light in the room hides it well. “If I remember correctly, it wasn’t long after this when it all started.”

“I know, I know.” Simon recalls their story, all the lovely early bits of their relationship. “Johnny, pull up some Arcadia stuff, would you?”

John types _Simon Le Bon Nick Rhodes Arcadia 1985_ and is surprised at just how many videos show up in the results.

“Weird to see your names like that now,” Roger pipes up.

Simon grins, the memories playing like a well loved vinyl record in his mind. “We debated over Le Bon-Rhodes and Rhodes-Le Bon for absolute _ages._ ”

“I told you Le Bon-Rhodes sounded best,” John says as he taps on a video.

As the video plays, it’s becoming evident that Nick and Simon had something going on then. They keep sharing glances, touching each other, and Nick keeps laughing at Simon’s jokes, even though they’re not all that funny. Once they get to the third part of the interview, Simon’s sitting on Nick’s lap, pretending to be a puppet. Nick then shuts him up by grabbing his face, squeezing his cheeks and shoving him off with a big smile on his face the whole time.

“Look at you, Charlie. _Whipped._ ” John has since finished his drink, leaning forward to place the empty mug on the coffee table with the others.

The candles have been been burning for so long that all the wax has melted off the sides of the jar, the scent wafting throughout the whole room. They are all relaxed and content, the two couples cozied up on the couch together. The night continues on outside, the winter air biting, but they don’t feel a thing. Inside, they are safe and warm, and out of the public eye. No cameras, no screaming fans; it’s just the four of them, being themselves.

Simon puts his arm around Nick’s shoulders, drawing him closer into his side. “Are you talking about now or in the video?”

John snorts. “Both.”

Roger takes John’s phone from his hand, searching for a video he knows exists somewhere online. Once he comes across the familiar thumbnail, he smiles and lets it play.

Andy, John, and himself are sat on a couch with an audience before them. A girl asks: _“_ _John and Roger, do you think you’ll ever marry?”_

 _“What, each other?”_ John replies in the video, and all three of them share a laugh, thinking it absurd. Little did they know back then that it would someday become their reality, their happy and fulfilling reality.

John covers his face, leaning into Roger’s shoulder. “Oh my god, I forgot this existed!”

Roger chuckles then presses a kiss to his forehead. “We had no idea.”

“Can I just say that I’m glad you two married each other and none of us married Andy? Because I really don’t know how I’d still put up with him,” Nick admits, remembering their guitarist with mixed feelings.

The others laugh, knowing that Nick and Andy clashed the most out of everyone. _Like oil and water,_ Simon would say of them.

“I can’t imagine any of us going for him, not even then.” John throws his arm over the back of the couch, bumping Simon in the process. “Must’ve felt weird being the only one in the band who’s not into guys.”

“Yeah, what are the chances?” Roger chuckles. He then points at Simon. “Don’t you dare sing, you’re on vocal rest for the holiday, remember?”

Nick puts his hand over his mouth before he can start belting out one of their new songs. His husband tries to glare at him, but he erupts in a fit of giggles before he can.

“Let’s watch more, I’m having fun with this,” Simon admits after Nick pulls his hand away.

Roger hands him John’s phone, stretching over him and Nick. “Here, you pick next.”

A shit-eating grin spreads across Simon’s face. “Alright, here we go.” He starts typing: _Duran Duran Notorious live._

Nick looks over. “You’re looking for the _Strange Behaviour_ tour video, aren’t you?”

“Hmm, maybe.”

Nick takes the phone from him, knowing exactly what he’s looking for. “You just want to see the close ups of me in that tight suit. I’m not stupid, Charlie,” he teases, hitting play when he comes across the video.

“Never said you were, darling.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wanted this up much earlier but work has been killing me! enjoy, my friends :)

The night goes on, the four of them watching their younger selves, laughing and remembering together in the warmth of John and Roger’s home. They look back on their lives together, the ups and downs, success and failure, loss and gain, and are proud of how far they’ve come. Everything worked out in the end, even when there were times they didn’t think it would. They survived.

“Let’s open presents before this sofa swallows me,” Simon yawns, getting sleepy from being so comfortable. Nick’s head on his shoulder makes it even harder to move.

John has been lying down for the past hour, spread across the expanse of their sofa, with his head on Roger’s thigh. In turn, Roger has a hand in his hair, his fingers tangled in it; a soothing and loving touch. He reluctantly sits up, also feeling the effects of the relaxing environment start to lull him.

Roger pushes himself off the sofa, climbing over Nick and Simon’s legs and makes his way over to the tree. He turns on the light, retrieves their presents, and returns to his spot. John is hogging his space, as usual. Not that he can complain.

“You two first,” Roger says, handing Nick the flat package. He smiles, excited to see their reaction.

They each take a corner and tear the foil wrapping, Nick giggling at the awkwardness of them both trying to open it at the same time. The wrapping falls away to reveal a specially made vinyl LP, the cover art a picture of the two of them during the Arcadia era. Simon’s arm is around Nick and he’s cuddled into his shoulder, a hand resting near his face, and his eyes gaze upon him, all the love in the world captured in that very moment in time.

“Get out,” Simon remarks, flipping the LP around. There’s a track list on the back, ten songs, five on each side. “This is beautiful.”

“Like a mixtape, but prettier and more on brand with you.” John smiles. “My idea, for the record.”

Roger rolls his eyes at the terrible pun. “He won’t let me forget it.”

Nick reads the track list, songs by Roxy Music, David Bowie, and Japan to name a few. All of the songs are special to him and Simon in some way, little pieces of their relationship peppered throughout the songs. The last song, of course, is _Election Day_. “That song started everything,” he recalls the memory, the day they shot the video.

_In between shooting scenes, they run off and taste each other’s lips. The newness is all so exciting; exhilaration coursing throughout their veins, from both each other and the production of the video. It’s everything they wanted it to be. It’s re-election day._

_Nick can’t help but smile into the warm kiss, Simon’s huge hands wandering all over his body as they dance so carelessly. It’s hardly a dance, it’s more of a lazy sway to the music that vibrates the floor beneath them. It’s the perfect soundtrack, it’s the music they made together. They are hidden for the moment, behind wispy black curtains and other gothic props._

_Simon’s mouth is covered in frosty pink lipstick, the taste of it heavenly somehow. Maybe it’s because he associates it with Nick. His hands wander down, gripping anywhere he can, to keep him close, to keep him from leaving. He doesn’t need to worry, though, for he_ _has never had any intention of doing so._

“We tried to get it as accurate as possible without asking you,” John chimes in. “I think we did good.” He nudges Roger with a grin.

“You did a fantastic job.” Simon looks to John and Roger, then to Nick. _His_ Nick. “It’s perfect, thank you.”

Nick leans forward and kisses him, like he’s done so many times before over the years. It still brings that feeling, awakens the steady fire within him, the one that keeps on burning as time goes by. It’s as if nothing has changed, yet it has; they’ve grown together, flourished even. John and Roger look on, just as happy as they are.

“Now you, go on,” Nick gestures to the gift in Roger’s hand. The shiny red paper gleams, catching the light.

John reaches over and starts tearing a corner of the paper, to which Roger smiles and hands it to him. A stack of aged polaroids fall out onto his lap and in front of him, pictures of the band when they were a five piece. The original _fab five,_ as they were lovingly referred to back then.

Roger reaches for a few, looking through them one by one: John, with red hair over his eyes and an awkward smile. Another: Andy and Nick sitting side by side, looking like the best of friends. He then stumbles upon one of himself and John, arms thrown around each other with huge smiles on their faces. His heart melts.

“When are these from?” he asks. “And how’d you find them?”

“I don’t remember any of these,” John admits softly, looking at another photo of himself goofing around with Simon.

“Shortly after the first album, I believe,” Nick replies, taking one from the pile. It’s Simon doing a weird pose, crouched down, his long legs folded underneath him. It brings a smile to his face. “A fan gave them to me recently and I thought you’d enjoy them.”

Roger gazes at the picture of him and John, feeling strangely nostalgic for those lost days. He then feels John bump into his shoulder, grabbing his attention. He’s holding out another polaroid of the two of them. In the photo, Roger is sitting at his drum kit with John behind him, leaning down with his head on his shoulder. It’s evident just how close they were, and just how much they _adored_ each other, even before they got together.

“Smitten. Absolutely smitten,” Roger comments, looking away from the photo and at his husband. His warm brown eyes have always been so inviting, always beckoning him to look.

“Glad to see that nothing’s changed, then.” John closes the distance between them, kissing the corner of his mouth.

“These are going in a frame, they’re too precious.” Roger gathers them all one by one and sets them on the coffee table, away from the still burning candles. “Very sweet, thank you.”

Simon stretches his arms as Nick gets up, pulling himself out of his grasp. It’s starting to look like the end of their night, the end of their little party, when John gets an idea. He turns the TV back on and pulls up a Christmas playlist on his phone, full of songs new and old.

Roger blows out the candles, the smoke drifting through the air around them. As soon as he does, a tune fills the room, a relic from the fifties. He looks to the screen and listens to the decadent sound. _I’d Like You For Christmas_ , the song is called. He smiles at the sweet title.

John’s standing now, wrapping his hands around Roger’s waist. “Dance with me?” he asks, though he’s already starting to walk him to the center of the room.

“We haven’t done this since our wedding,” Roger says, recalling that night. He was sore from both the endless dancing and some of their other escapades they got up to that lovely evening. He puts his hands on John’s shoulders and pulls him closer so that their bodies are nearly flush. “Of course I’ll dance with you.”

Meanwhile, Nick is pulling Simon up from his cozy spot, willing them to do the same. Simon groans at first, but soon complies, taking his hand. They join John and Roger where there’s more space, the soft song flowing from the speakers.

_I'd like you for Christmas_   
_Please make my wish come true_   
_'Cause I'd dream trees and deck the hallways_   
_If I knew you'd be mine for always_

Simon goes to twirl Nick and he reluctantly follows, rolling his eyes and laughing as he does so. “There’s a good reason we don’t dance in our videos, Charlie.”

He pulls Nick close against his chest, still holding his hand. “Nobody will see this, doesn’t matter,” he reassures.

Nick loosens up at his words, relaxing against his husband, swaying along to the rest of the song with him. He clings to him, the moment every bit enjoyable for the two of them.

The song ends and a new one begins, a more upbeat classic. John and Roger have let each other go, and instead, have their phones out to capture a candid of Nick and Simon’s cute moment together.

Simon notices first. “You bastards.” He blushes and hides his face behind Nick’s head, pressing a feathery kiss to his temple.

They eventually say their goodbyes for the night, but not before a few more songs and a lot of pictures they’ll keep only for themselves; keepsakes for their eyes only.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaand it gets steamy. enjoy!!

“So,” John starts, coming up behind Roger in the kitchen and embracing him, his head slot between his shoulder and the curve of his neck. “What are your plans for tonight?”

Nick and Simon left mere minutes ago; it’s now almost midnight, but neither of them are tired quite yet. Roger has some ideas, and he’s sure John is thinking very much the same as him. “Funny, I was going to ask you the same question,” he teases.

 _“I’d like you for Christmas,”_ John sings the song they heard earlier in the night, his voice sultry in Roger’s ear. _“Please make my wish come true.”_

“I’ll make your wish come true if you stop singing,” Roger deadpans, leaning back into the warmth of John’s chest.

John acts hurt, though he knows his husband means well. It’s an inside joke between the two of them. “You love my singing. C’mon, admit it.”

“Okay, but _I Do What I Do_ doesn’t count as singing,” Roger chuckles. He places his hands over John’s, which are resting on his stomach. “That’s you dirty talking over a beat.”

John smiles and squeezes him tighter. “You drive me crazy.”

Roger turns around in his arms, running his hands down his chest with intent. He knows exactly where this is headed and he can’t deny how much he’s been needing it. “You think I don’t know that? I do it on purpose, silly.”

“Well, I guess you _do what you do_ to have me, then,” John teases him right back, continuing their little game of push and pull.

“No singing, not in bed.”

“One, you said that’s not singing, and two, we’re not even there yet!”

Roger smirks, enjoying this more than he anticipated. “Maybe we would be if you’d shut your pretty mouth.”

“Alright, make me.”

Their lips meet in an eager kiss, the union as thrilling as it always is. They still can’t get enough of each other, still want so much more, always. John pushes Roger against the refrigerator door, licking into his mouth hotly. Roger slots a thigh between his legs. He then lets his hands travel down his chest, stopping at his belt buckle.

John sighs, breath hot and heavy as they part for air. He ruts against Roger’s thigh, getting more and more turned on by the second. “Bedroom. _Now._ ” His hands cling to his hips, needy.

Without a word, Roger grabs him and pulls him down the hall to their room. He wastes no time pushing John down onto the smoothed out sheets; he made the bed this morning, though it doesn’t matter now. They’ll mess it up in no time. He climbs on top of him, kissing him senseless.

John’s hands roam all over Roger, feeling up his smaller, yet muscular frame. He’s glad he’s being pinned down. He wants to be on the bottom tonight, completely at his husband’s will. He thinks about their fun earlier, about how Roger got him tangled up in the string of lights.

_“I cannot believe I tied my husband to the Christmas tree by accident.”_

_“You can tie me up on purpose later, if you want.”_

John wasn’t kidding when he said that. Roger’s hands fall to the hem of his shirt as their lips move in synch, so in tune with each other, as both lovers and as bandmates.

“I meant it when I said you could tie me up,” John whispers after they part, his lips glistening even in the low light. “It’s been a while.”

Roger ruts against him, grinding down hard. “Good, I have an idea,” he says in John’s ear before he climbs off of him.

John waits for him to come back, sprawled out across the bed. He props himself up on his elbows when he hears Roger coming back down the hall, his heartbeat quickening, wondering just what his husband has in store for him tonight.

He returns with a set of lights. John smirks, watching him plug them in by the nightstand. The room bursts with their brightness, glowing red, green, and white. “I knew you enjoyed seeing me all twisted in those lights.”

“How could I not?” Roger replies, returning to their bed.

John moves himself towards the headboard, so the lights don’t have to stretch as far. “At least this time it’s intentional.”

Roger laughs softly. “Not gonna let that go, are you?”

“Not a chance, babe.”

John pulls his own shirt off over his head, then moves to help Roger out of his own. With careful hands, he works to remove his jeans, Roger shucking them off and onto the bedroom floor. He returns the favor, undoing John’s belt and pulling them down his legs until they’re both in just their boxers.

Roger takes the lights and starts to wrap them around John’s wrist, effectively attaching him to the bedpost in the process. He drapes some along his chest before wrapping the rest around his other wrist and a gap in the headboard, his fingers tickling his bare skin as he does. John moans, almost inaudible, looking at him through lidded eyes.

“So pretty, Johnny,” Roger coos, dirty and sweet, letting his fingers dance upon his chest; a light and teasing kind of touch.

The lights reflect in his eyes and his skin glows, festive and so turned on. He could easily break out of this, for Roger hasn’t made the restraint terribly tight, but the thought doesn’t cross his mind. He’s enjoying this too much, having a good time, a _great_ time. He’s shining in every way he can.

“What do you want tonight?” Roger asks him, giving him the reigns. They tend to switch, regularly taking turns pleasing each other. It’s just what their dynamic calls for. They give and take, finding a beautiful balance between the two.

“I want you,” John whispers, like it’s a secret. “A little rough, yeah?”

Roger smirks. He’s a drummer, he can certainly do rough. “You got it, babe.”

He reaches over, opening the bedside drawer. He takes out a bottle of lubricant and a condom. Eyeing the toys residing in the drawer, he considers them for a moment, but decides against it. Maybe another time.

John tied up in Christmas lights is plenty enough for him; his cock is throbbing already, begging for friction of any kind. He slots between his legs and starts to tug his boxers down his legs, slow as he watches his face.

“Tease,” John quips as his cock springs free.

Roger rids himself of his own boxers, tossing them to the floor along with the rest of their discarded clothes. “Only for you.”

“Better only be for me,” John remarks, spreading his legs to give him better access.

Roger warms some of the lubricant in his hand, slicking up his fingers before he presses them into him. “I married you, didn’t I?”

John groans at the intrusion, loving the feeling of Roger’s fingers inside him. He’s always so careful and loving somehow, even when they do things a little less vanilla than usual. He smiles and flushes pink, but the lights he’s bound by tint him in red and green instead.

“That’s what this is for?” he giggles, wiggling his hand to flash his golden wedding band. It shines, catching the light surrounding him.

Roger’s heart swells. “Cute,” he chuckles, then continues to work him open, adding a third finger when he feels he’s ready.

A few moments pass, and John starts to push down on his hand, desperate for something more. _“Ready,”_ he says it like a command, already so strung out. Roger tends to do that to him in bed; he melts him down without even trying.

Roger pulls his fingers out promptly. John watches him open the condom with his teeth, a habit he picked up some years ago, not exactly necessary, but endearing all the same. He rolls it down his hardened cock and reaches for the lube again, slicking himself up.

He pushes in, gentle at first. In no time, he’s buried inside John completely. A moan escapes his parted lips as he reaches out to grab his hips, holding him down as he draws back, then slams in again.

“Fuck, Rog,” John cries out, his skin growing balmy as he breaks out in sweat. He would cling to him, drag his nails down his back, touch him in every way he can think of, yet he can’t. It’s the only downside of being tied up. “Faster.”

Roger starts drilling into him, speeding up the pace. He admires how good the lights look resting upon John’s chest, making him glow. Who knew he could’ve discovered something so beautiful by complete accident, with nothing else but pure dumb luck?

He’s thankful he was so careless earlier, when they were decorating the tree.

John throws his head back in ecstasy, exposing his neck. Roger takes the opportunity to lean forward and leave messy, open mouthed kisses there. It draws sweet sounds out of the bassist, which is music to Roger’s ears. He lets his hands run up his sides, a soft caress amidst their rough, relentless fucking.

“So good for me, Johnny.” Roger holds his hips down again, with a little more force this time. “All tied up, letting me fill you with my cock.”

“Touch me,” John pleads, his orgasm on the rise. Roger is slamming into his prostate with every thrust. “N- _Need_ you.”

Roger complies, moving a hand to pump John as he drives him into the headboard further, the lights shaking along with the rest of the bed. He’s getting close, too. John is so tight around him and it’s sending him over the edge.

“Come for me,” Roger grunts, his voice deep and uneven.

A few pumps later and John’s coming in Roger’s hand, trying to stifle a scream, but not very well. He swears he’s seeing stars, though it might just be the Christmas lights shining in his eyes.

Roger follows, spilling into the condom as his orgasm rips through him. The two of them are a sticky, sweaty pile of limbs, but their hearts beat erratically together. Their faces match as well; contentment from the pleasure evident in their expressions.

John feels Roger pull out and he closes his eyes. He’s growing tired now, the drowsy feeling creeping up on him fast. When he opens them again, Roger is gone. He reappears shortly with a towel in hand, cleaning up his husband with tenderness.

“Merry Christmas, love.” Roger tosses the towel with their pile of clothes, then moves to work on setting John free.

“Mmm, best present ever,” John smiles and sighs happily. “I mean it.”

Roger laughs, finally getting both of his wrists untangled from the glowing lights. “I can say the same. You look good all wrapped in fairy lights.” He puts the lights on the floor and unplugs them, leaving them both in darkness again.

John pulls the covers over them once Roger climbs back into bed next to him, their warm bare skin meeting. “Don’t I look good in just about anything though?”

“Thought that damn ego died a long time ago.”

John grabs him and draws him closer, tangling their legs underneath the sheets. “Maybe a little. Merry Christmas, I love you.”

“I love you too.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> merry Christmas loves! thank you for supporting this story. i had a lot of fun writing this. here’s to more Duran fic, and as always, enjoy!!

They come home to a quiet and warm house, closing the front door behind them. The rest of the world quietly disappears. They’re alone, just the two of them, in the comfort of the home they spent years building together. It’s safe and intimate; the closest thing to paradise, the most precious thing they have come to know.

Simon helps rid Nick of his coat, easing the heavy black wool off his slender shoulders. His fingers brush his arms as he does so, a soft accidental touch. But even those touches suggest tenderness, suggest love and adoration in its purest form. He strips himself of his own, hanging them in the closet by the door with a gentle sigh.

Nick passes him and starts to head upstairs, the patter of his footsteps causing Simon to turn around. “Going to bed already?” he asks.

He stops in his tracks, the third step up. “Not yet, no.” He turns around again, then looks back. “I take it that you’re not either.”

“You know I always stay up with you,” Simon replies. “I’ll be up. Just gonna make a cup of coffee first.”

Nick comes back down the steps and pecks him on the lips, a soft smile spreading on his face. “Bring me one too, please.”

“Of course, love.”

Simon makes his way to the kitchen, flicking on the light. As he prepares their coffees, he thinks about the night and finds himself grinning. It’s nice to spend time with his band and not have to work, to just be with each other and enjoy themselves like a group of best friends.

He’s happy. They all are. They’re more than satisfied with the music, with their relationships, with everything.

The coffee pot is finished brewing before he knows it. He fills both of their cups, leaving Nick’s black and adding a dash of milk and sugar to his own. He heads for their bedroom upstairs, careful not to spill hot coffee all over his hands as he makes his way.

The wall opposite of the banister is covered in framed photos of them, the band, and their families. Every now and then, Simon stops to view them, standing on the steps as he reminisces. There’s a particular set of wedding photos he finds it hard to look away from; that day was special, as wedding dates typically are.

They’re holding each other, both in fitted black tuxes made just for the big day. In another, they’re cutting their cake, and another, attached at the lips. A photo of their first dance as _Simon and Nick Le Bon-Rhodes_ has a place there too, next to one of them with John, Roger, and Warren at the reception. They’re all smiling, feeding off all the positive energy the event brought. 

The last photo in the frame is one of the two of them holding a copy of _The Wedding Album_ , released a little over a month after they married. Their rings are visible in the photo, proudly worn to tell the world that they belong to each other, that they have begun to build a life together. _Their_ life.

Simon pulls himself back to reality after a few moments, the photos coming to life in his mind. He climbs the last few steps and walks down the hall to their room. There’s soft lamplight leaking out into the hallway, setting a serene mood.

He finds Nick perched on the edge of the bed, phone in hand. He notices his presence right away and looks up. Simon joins him, handing him his coffee. The mug warms his small hands, so he wraps his fingers around it before taking a sip.

“Did you have a good night?” Simon asks.

Nick locks his phone and sets it down on the bed. “It was lovely.”

“Good.” Simon sips his coffee. It goes down smooth and warms him from the inside out.

“So,” Nick starts, “I never did ask. What do you want for Christmas?”

Simon thinks for a second, but finds there’s absolutely nothing he wants, other than the obvious. “Nothing,” he tells him, watching his eyes. “Just you.”

Nick smiles at his words. “Are you saying that to be cute or do you have something in mind?”

“ _That’s_ up to you.”

“In that case,” he starts, getting to his feet. He takes his and Simon’s cups and puts them on the bedside table. “Let me go take my makeup off.”

“Or I could help you out with that.” Simon gets up, slinking an arm around his waist.

Nick leans into him, his touch grounding and comfortable. “If you’d be so kind.”

Simon’s mouth hovers above his ear as he whispers, “I want you stripped, in bed.”

“You got it,” Nick replies with a wink.

“You absolute tease.”

“ _Your_ tease. Now go.”

Simon follows his order, heading into the master bathroom. He grabs one of Nick’s makeup wipes from the cabinet and when he returns, Nick is slipping underneath the covers, a pile of clothes on the bedroom floor.

“That was fast.”

“I don’t mess around, Charlie.”

Simon works to undress himself, Nick watching him the entire time. He feels his eyes on him, raking over his body, and though they’ve been together for so long, it still brings a thrill. “Like what you see?”

Nick rolls his eyes. “Just shut up and get over here.”

He slips under the covers next to him, makeup wipe in hand. Nick lets out a soft sigh as Simon cups his face, bringing the cloth to his eye and gently wiping away the black makeup there.

“Remember the first time I did this?” Simon recalls their early Arcadia days, before they were together. “You practically melted in my hands.”

“I was young and enamored. I just wanted you to touch me.”

Simon moves to his other eye, smiling wide. “And I always did. Couldn’t keep my hands off you.”

“Still can’t.” Nick leans into his touch, proving that he doesn’t mind. He never has; Simon knows this, too.

They both share a laugh. “This is true.”

As he finishes getting the last of his eyeshadow off, he admires his face. They’ve both aged, obviously, but the passing of time has treated them well. Nick’s features are still as attractive as they were some thirty years ago.

Pulling away from Nick for a brief moment, he tosses the makeup wipe on the nightstand. He pulls out the top drawer while he’s there, retrieving lube and a condom. He sets them down on the sheets next to him and moves to press his body into Nick’s, hands roaming until he settles them on his waist, drawing him closer.

Nick leans forward and attaches his lips to Simon’s neck. It draws a sigh from him, while his hands search underneath the sheets, he brushes Simon’s half hard cock.

“Already hard for me, I see,” Nick comments, his lips against Simon’s neck still. He grabs ahold of him and he groans in response.

“So are you,” Simon mutters, pressing his face into the pillow.

Nick takes control, throwing a leg over him and moving so he’s straddling him. Their cocks brush in the process and he moans lowly.

Simon knows where this going and he’s not about to protest. “ _Fuck,_ gonna ride me, baby?”

“If that’s what you want,” Nick’s dulcet voice caresses his ear.

“God, _yes._ ” Simon reaches for the bottle of lubricant. “Let’s get you opened up.” He dispenses some on his fingers, making sure it’s warm before he reaches around and presses them into Nick.

Nick leans down a little to give him better access, both of his hands splayed across Simon’s chest for stability. Simon rests his other hand on his thigh.

Within no time, Nick’s grinding down on his fingers, hungry for more. Simon adds a third finger and it sends Nick forward, clinging to him as he works him open, every bit caring and gentle.

“You’re always... so patient with me,” Nick breaths out, starting to feel more pleasure as Simon spreads his fingers inside him.

Simon looks at him, feeling so much for him he might burst, like a colorful firework of emotions. “Because you’re my husband and I love you,” he says, never tired of referring to him as such.

“Love you,” Nick says, blissed out, “so much.”

Simon pulls his fingers out, running both hands along his thighs as Nick sits up straighter. “Ready?”

“ _Yes._ ”

Simon finds the condom in the mess of sheets around them, tearing it open. He hands it to Nick who takes his time rolling it down his fully erect cock. Simon uncaps the lube once more and squeezes a generous amount into Nick’s hands. He coats him, pumping him a few times, which causes him to throw his head back in utter pleasure.

Nick begins to sink down slowly, taking him inch by inch until he’s fully seated on his cock. Simon cries out beneath him, reaching out and grabbing at his hips. He breathes deep for a few moments, getting used to his size before he starts to move.

“Fucking hell, Nick,” Simon groans, his tight heat around him perfect in every way. “Always so tight.”

“Just for you.” Nick’s hands explore his chest, moving with him as his chest rises and falls with his erratic breath. As his soft hands glide along his skin, he lifts himself up and comes back down again, riding Simon’s cock for all he’s worth.

Simon bucks up into him, clutching harder at his hips so he doesn’t lose his balance. “Watching those... _ah—_ Arcadia videos made me think of Paris.”

Nick moans, Simon hitting the sensitive bundle of nerves inside him. “Paris, huh?”

“How we made love anywhere we could. Hotels, backstage—”

“Fucking studios.”

Simon thrusts up into him again, knowing he doesn’t have long now. “That’s why the album took so long.”

Nick smiles, remembering those days vividly. “Our little secret.”

“Dirty, _dirty_ little secret,” Simon says with a deep grunt. “Stop a second, gonna flip you.”

He complies and lets Simon lay him down, his head now resting on the pillow. He hovers over him, placing both his hands on either side of his waist, then starts moving again. His thrusts are deep and long, causing Nick to fall apart beneath him.

“Close,” he cries out, while Simon gives it to him.

“Me too, love.”

A few more rhythmic thrusts and Simon’s releasing with a low moan in Nick’s ear, his lips brushing the shell. Nick follows soon after, coming all over both their stomachs while he drag his nails down his husband’s back. Simon pulls out and collapses, half on him and half on the bed.

Nick groans with the impact. “Jesus, Charlie.”

“Not young anymore,” Simon chuckles, moving his weight off of Nick and turning onto his side.

Nick turns to face him, reaching out to caress his cheek with the side of his hand. “Still incredibly sexy in my eyes.”

“That’s all that matters.” Simon pulls Nick into his chest, letting his hands run down his back; a comforting touch.

They bask in silence for a moment or two, breathing together in each other’s arms. Only now do they know real peace, away from hustle and bustle of being a band. There’s no music to create, no shows to play, no one to impress. All they have right now is each other and the moment; they’ve hit pause on everything else. It can certainly wait.

Nick is happy, as happy as he’s been in a long time. “Best Christmas ever,” he tells Simon with a genuine smile. His face is buried in his chest and he’s relaxed, and not to mention, quite warm.

“Really?” Simon asks, recalling years prior. They weren’t all so bad in his memory. “I’m not disagreeing, but why this year?”

“It’s a lot of things... the album, the band. I don’t know. I just think we have a better outlook now.” Nick thinks for a moment, trying to find the right words to describe what’s on his mind. “We’ve grown up a lot.”

Simon cards a hand through his hair, the blonde locks already mussed. “I know what you mean. You’re happy now, right?”

“Very. Are you?”

“Absolutely. But you know what would make me even happier?”

Nick has an idea of what Simon is going to say before the words leave his mouth. “And what would that be?” he asks.

“A nice hot shower with you.”

 _Called it,_ he thinks to himself. “In what world would I deny that?”

Simon kisses the top of his head. “Not this one, clearly.”

“I married a bastard.” Nick looks at him, his eyes full of love. “But I wouldn’t change a thing.”

After their shower together, Nick changes their sheets and they climb back into bed, warm and content. It’s nearing three in morning by the time they fall asleep in each other’s arms. The rest of the world is far away, for they are the only ones in their cocoon; safe and sound.

Simon dozes off to the reassuring thought of knowing how loved he is, how loved Nick is, how loved the _band_ as a whole is. He concludes that Nick is right, it really has been the best Christmas ever, at least for them.

The night shifts, the cold darkness turning into a brisk sunny morning. As they dream, they know they will be together for always.


End file.
